☾ ☽

phil had learned to keep quiet. it was how he got through the day.

keep quiet, do your job, and the opportunities will come to you. you are completely in control, and at the same time, not at all in control of anything.

it never seemed to make sense to anyone but phil, but it was how he had been raised. it had been drilled into his head countless times, it was all he had ever really known.

shut up, keep quiet, and it'll come to you.

"hey!" someone snapped in phil's face, waking him up. he blinked, shaking his head.

"what, eliza?"

"wake up." she smirked. "it's time to open up, or did you forget you work here?"

phil rolled his eyes, rubbing at his eyes. he moved to the other side of the small booth, where there was a mirror. he mussed up his hair, frowning when it wouldn't even remotely do what he wanted. as always.

"i keep saying to frank, i keep telling him, 'that boy daydreams far too much. you want a real hardworking fellow, not one of the lester boys. head in the clouds.'"

phil rolled his eyes again, moving past the girl with the light brown ponytail sweeping the floor in front of the entrance, flipping the sign to open. she was 22, same as phil, but she spoke as if she was eighty.

the perfect specimen to work at a dusty used book shop crammed in between a starbucks and an italian restaurant. just odd enough.

phil sighed, moving back to the desk and beginning his daily checklist. sweep; check, it was eliza's day to do that. the sign was turned, desk was dusted, and the books were all organized alphabetically. done, check. he was all done with his morning jobs.

"i'm going to the back," he muttered to eliza, who responded with a sort of mumble, some kind of acknowledgment.

phil retreated to the back of the store, the small nook that held the history books, all the ones no one really wanted. no one but phil, of course. a perfect cover.

he sat in the large rocking chair, and let his head fall back so his eyes were locked on the ceiling. his eyes passed over the white plaster, the surface he had begged frank countless times to let him paint.

he would do something with flowers, definitely. paint all the flowers he wished for so desperately, because it's so hard to have a garden when you live in the city, and your landlord refuses to let you bring dirt inside.

he remembered living in the country, where he was allowed to plant as much as he wanted. he had his own little gardening box, where he'd take care of roses and irises and daisies, any flower he wanted. until his parents decided it was time for him to get a start on the rest of his life. move out, move to the city, do something with himself.

so now he was a struggling artist and worked at an unpopular book store for minimum wage. great, thanks mom and dad.

phil blinked, opening his eyes and squinting at the front door when the bell tinkled, sealing behind whoever had entered. of course, he should have guessed; it was the brown haired boy who came every day, right at opening time.

he was rather pretty, there was no denying it; his hair fell in messy locks in his chocolate eyes, as if he had just woken up, and freckles dotted his nose and cheeks like constellations. the only strange thing about him were his shoes.

the boy always wore large clunky shoes, made of what looked like metal, which must be hard to walk in. they were like huge steam punk boots, which seemed completely opposite to the boy's style. and they seemed to be painful too, by the way he limped and leaned side to side just the slightest.

and don't even get phil started on how loud they were.

phil watched carefully as the customer wandered the store, as he did every day. he had a sort of rushed look to him, as if something bad would happen if he didn't get in and out as quickly as possible, while still looking dazed. phil didn't know how he did that, it was the kind of thing only disney princesses and forest animals could do.

finally he seemed to notice phil, and moved towards him. despite the shoes, he moved rather gracefully, if not slightly pained. phil braced himself, because what kind of weirdo dresses like that anyways?

"hello," the boy said, so softly that phil almost had to lean forward to hear him.

"hey." he offered a smile, hoping that it didn't look forced. "how can i help you, sir?"

the boy bit his lip, tugging on it between his teeth until it went pale, exposing the freckles that dusted his rosy lips as well.

"do you have any more astronomy books?" he blinked, his dark eyelashes fanning over his rosy cheeks. "i... it's just, i looked in the spot they usually are, and they weren't there..."

phil stood up, smiling at him. "ah. yeah, we have 'em. eliza reorganized yesterday, i'll show you to them."

the boy's eyes lit up like a sky full of stars, and phil almost choked. how the fuck was that legal?

"oh, thank you so much! i read very fast, you see, so i need more all the time and..." he seemed to realize he was rambling, and stopped himself, blushing darkly. "oh dear, i'm sorry. just s-show me the books, i'll shush."

phil nodded slowly, laughing under his breath. he was pretty cute, in the same way an old lady was. he and eliza would surely get along.

phil led him to the new astronomy section was, leaning against the shelf. "here you are."

the guy smiled again, his dimples popping on his round cheeks, and he nodded. "can't thank you enough, er..."

"phil," phil muttered. the boy nodded.

"well, thank you, phil."

phil nodded, retreating back to his spot in the back of the store. he watched him pay and leave, the door bell tinkling, his thoughts wandering away again, until he realized he had forgotten to ask the boy's name.